


Timmy's Neck

by JoliePrudence



Series: Body Parts - A Series [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Charmie, Flashback, M/M, Timmy's neck, You gotta do what you gotta do, but also Hair porn, neck porn, sex in a stranger's house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28925238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoliePrudence/pseuds/JoliePrudence
Summary: Part Five of the Body Parts Series which explores the beauty of various body parts.  In this installment, Armie lusts after Timmy's neck.  Smuttiness ensues.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Body Parts - A Series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983274
Comments: 36
Kudos: 70





	Timmy's Neck

**Author's Note:**

> All the stories written for this series take place in the universe I created while writing 'Juillet' which can be read here: [**Juillet by JoliePrudence**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067612)
> 
> Though they aren't written chronologically, they all take place during the month Timmy rented a cabin in the Woodstock area during the summer of 2020.
> 
> P.S.  
> I don't normally add disclaimers to my fics stating that this is fiction etc. But following a comment left on this fic earlier, I guess I should now so here it is...
> 
> THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. I DO NOT KNOW ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS.
> 
> Please abstain from reading if you are triggered by what you have read on social media about any of the characters depicted in this other any other works of mine. 
> 
> NB: biting, licking, nibbling, tasting, swallowing etc may occur in this fic. Nobody gets eaten. 
> 
> Please read responsibly.

[ ](https://ibb.co/G0mLcyh)

It’s late. Dinner was a quick plate of simple pasta, eaten in a rush on the edge of the table and now Timmy’s back in the nook, sitting at the window seat, papers scattered all around him. He’s been working all day, getting ready to head back to the city now that summer is nearing its end. 

Armie already knows Timmy’s back is going to be sore when he finally puts the scripts, notebooks, and various file folders away for the night because even if he’s been told he shouldn't, he hunches over his knees as he reads and writes. 

As though he can read Armie’s mind, Timmy stops for a brief moment to stretch, arms reaching high above his head, his left hand clasping his right wrist. He groans as he readjusts, twisting his torso from side to side and then arching backward slightly to stretch his spine. His eyes close when his arms are back at his sides and he tilts his head to one side and then the other, one corner of his mouth pulling up when discomfort makes him wince. 

Once he’s done, he takes a plain black hair tie off his wrist and brings his hands to his hair, long, narrow fingers combing through overgrown unruly curls and taming them as best he can into a messy blob at the top of his head, which he secures with the tie. As he picks up the script he’d been studying and hunches over it again, a few straggly ringlets come loose and fall into his eyes so he tucks them behind his ear. 

Pulling his hair back is something he does often in private but rarely, if ever, in public. Few are the people he’s allowed to see him this way and Armie has never asked why, though he assumes it’s because the proverbial ‘they’ - the fans, the industry, the machine that he has to mold himself into a different person for - have come to associate him with his hair and who they perceive him to be based in part on his looks. When he’s home or with friends, he has no need for the image, so he’s more at ease to make himself comfortable. 

Armie wishes he would do it more often. Not that he doesn’t like Timmy’s long hair and the cherubic way it defines his features when soft curls frame his face, softening the angles of sharp cheekbones and an edged jawline; he does. It makes him look sweet - docile sometimes even, which he’s anything but - and it accentuates the androgyny and youthfulness of his appearance. But there’s something about the way putting it up changed the lines of his neck - making them more lithe and graceful - that even a shorter haircut can’t replicate. 

As Armie watches him from across the room, his fingers once again tucking a rebellious tendril behind his ear absentmindedly, he’s reminded of a party they both attended last summer. 

* * *

It was a private industry event, held at the residence of a studio bigwig, and though Armie knew Timmy had also been invited, he wasn’t supposed to attend. Primary filming of Dune had just completed in Abu Dhabi but secondary scenes were scheduled to start shooting in Budapest just a few weeks later and, with promo for The King set to start in September, Timmy had wanted to go home to New York and visit with his family for a few weeks.

Armie had stopped in his tracks when he’d first spotted him, chatting effortlessly with people Armie vaguely knew. He stood out amidst the group of business suit types, dressed in a pair of fitted black jeans, loosely laced Doc Martin ankle boots, and a loose-collared white tank top under a forest green button up sweater that hung open at his sides. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and it was hot as fuck. His sleeves were casually pushed up to his elbows, exposing delicate wrists adorned with jelly bracelets. He was anxious, the way his ring clad fingers were toying with the bracelets giving him away even if the rest of him looked poised and relaxed.

His hair had grown longer since Armie had last seen him. The thought made him chuckle half-heartedly. They could practically measure the length of time since they’d last seen each other by the growth of Timmy’s hair.

Timmy smiled when he saw him, the type of smile that made his eyes twinkle and his cheeks flush and plump up over his cheekbones. He’d been waiting for him - positioning himself in such a way that he could see the patio doors - and anxiety turned to excitement, eagerness, and even a little relief; all this obvious in the way his body relaxed while he simultaneously bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. He masked it well, this exuberance for Armie’s arrival. The people he was with probably hadn’t even noticed. But Armie did, because he felt it too. The thrill of seeing him, the exhilaration at the thought of being able to touch him. He’d never felt this way about anybody. And he knew Timmy hadn’t either.

‘Hi!’ Timmy mouthed from afar, unable to contain a silent laugh, tongue peaking out through his teeth playfully when Armie mouthed an overjoyed ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ in response. 

Timmy had wanted to surprise him and he was pleased with himself that he’d succeeded. The joy in his face was overwhelming and Armie's heart swelled in his chest like a balloon ready to burst. He struggled through the effort it took to not run over to Timmy and swoop him up in a hug that would undoubtedly sweep him off his feet, literally. This was a business function after all, and even if it was a private party, they had set very clear rules for themselves about how they should behave at these things, not wanting to arouse suspicion or make tongues wag. 

“There’s somebody I want you to meet,” Evelyn was saying, and she pulled Armie in the opposite direction of where Timmy was standing. 

“I just need to…” he started, but Evelyn ignored him, dragging him along. How could someone so small be so annoyingly strong, he wondered. ‘Sorry!’ he mouthed over his shoulder, longing clear in the way his brows were knitted and raised. ‘5 minutes’ he added, showing Timmy an open-palm with outstretched fingers for emphasis. 

Timmy nodded and then winked, the smile that made Armie’s heart seize, melt and beat faster all at the same time still wide on his lips, and then he returned his attention to the person speaking in his group.

Armie had been trying to focus on the conversation Evelyn and a well known director were having about a possible new project that they both felt Armie would be perfect for, when his phone buzzed in his pants pocket. He pulled it out and peaked at it, surreptitiously at first so as not to offend anyone with his inattention, but seeing the familiar TC contact text notification, he excused himself and stepped a few feet to the side so he could read the message.

_**TC - Did you miss me?** _

Armie looked around but couldn’t see Timmy anywhere. Quickly he typed a reply.

_**Armie - So fucking much. I can’t believe you decided to come and didn’t tell me. Where are you?** _

_**TC - I wanted to surprise you. I’m in the screening room. Got pulled into viewing some dailies of a friend’s new picture. Where are you?** _

_**Armie - By the pool. Lemme try to get away.**_

And Armie had tried, really he had, but every time he thought he’d found an opportunity to do so, Evelyn would grab him before he could make his escape and he was forced into yet another conversation. They caught glimpses of each other here and there, often from across a packed room, eyes locking through the crowd; and in those moments it was as though everything around them disappeared briefly and they were alone. But then he’d be dragged away to another conversation, another person Evelyn wanted him to meet.

They texted each other, even if they were in the same room, because they never seemed to be able to gravitate toward the same group. It was flirtatious banter that was making Armie crazy… in the best way. Being so close and not being able to touch him, kiss him, or even just brush their hands together was torture; but it only meant that when he was finally able to do these things, it would be that much better.

_**Armie - I think the universe is conspiring against us. Please tell me you aren’t just here for this party because if so, fuck these people, I’m coming to get you and we’re getting outta here. I don’t care if I have to throw you over my shoulder and knock out Brian to do it.** _

_**TC - Very dramatic and brutish. I think that’s called kidnapping Mr. Hammer. Which apparently I’m totally into lol. I’m here for a few days though, we have time. Just a few more hours and then you can take me home. I like those pants btw. They’ll look AMAZING on the floor!!!!** _

They lost sight of each other for a while. Timmy had followed an acquaintance into the kitchen and Armie had been pulled toward the bar because a producer he knew had insisted that he make him one of his famous martinis. The bartender had refused at first but eventually he’d allowed Armie behind the counter, and Armie had ended up making drinks for overly impressed party goers for a good fifteen minutes.

Later, Armie was having a bite to eat - he wasn’t following the waitress and her tray of mini beef wellingtons, they just happened to be going in the same direction… yep! - when his phone vibrated in his palm. He’d taken to keeping it in his hand because… Well, Timmy! Did he need another reason?

 _ **TC -**_ [](https://imgbb.com/)

_**Armie - I just choked on a piece of meat cause of you.** _

_**TC - *shakes head at the obvious joke* Too easy!** _

_**Armie - So are you.** _

_**TC - I’m not the one choking on meat!!!!** _

Armie was still chuckling when Evelyn found him and he had to put his phone away. He normally didn’t mind the networking, the chatting with people he barely knew, the feigned interest in whatever project they were currently working on and the vague ‘Let’s do lunch, Darling’ bullshit. But in that moment, all he could think about was the picture Timmy had just sent him. The little fucker always knew exactly how to make Armie’s brain stop functioning and he did it with impunity. 

Armie imagined licking a trail from the dip just above Timmy’s sharp collarbone all the way up the slope of his long neck - practically able to feel the inevitable goosebumps under his tongue - until his nose was buried inside soft curls. He was just starting to imagine kissing and nibbling the tender spot just under Timmy’s jawbone when he was dragged from his reveries by a sharp pain in his foot. Evelyn was pressing her heel down on his toes. He must have been further gone than he thought and reluctantly, he tried to concentrate on who he was with, rather than who he wanted to be with. 

Armie seized the first opportunity to escape that was presented to him. He excused himself and made his way to the bar to ask for a water with lime and while he waited to be served, he texted Timmy.

_**Armie - Where are you?** _

_**TC - Look up.** _

He did as instructed, but it took him a few seconds of searching the second floor facade of the Spanish-style mansion to find him amidst all the windows, Juliet balconies and balustrades. He finally spotted him, sitting on the wide railing of a stone balcony while Brian and a dude in a suit were deep in conversation next to him. He waved sheepishly down at Armie, who couldn’t help the worrisome scowl that darkened his features.

_**Armie - Get down from there. You’ll fall.** _

_**TC - Will you catch me if I do?** _

_**Armie - How about I come find you instead?** _

_**TC - 2nd floor study. 3rd door on the left after the stairs. Come save me.** _

Quickly, Armie made his way inside and took the stairs two at a time, but Timmy was already gone by the time he got there. This was beginning to feel like a game and for whatever reason, the prospect made his cock twitch.

**_Armie - Why do I think you’re toying with me?_ **

**_TC - Now why would you think that? *smiles innocently*_ **

**_Armie - Careful little mouse._ **

**_TC - I thought I was the cat._ **

**_Armie - Now why would you think that? *smiles devilishly*_**  
  
Thirty minutes later, Timmy was sitting on the arm of a couch in a lavish living room, involved in conversation with a group of young actors and personalities that all looked to be around his age. These were friends. Maybe not good friends, but people he was comfortable with, and it showed in the exuberance with which he gesticulated and moved his body as he spoke. 

Timmy’s back was turned to the crowd, though his face was angled slightly and Armie could see him in profile. As was often the case, he was struck by how stunningly beautiful Timmy was. It always caught him off guard. It was as though his brain couldn’t commit to memory with any level of accuracy the magnificence of his beauty so it was a shock every time he was reminded of it, of how he glowed. 

Armie watched him from across the room, not wanting to impinge on his time with his friends, joining a group of other actors he was friendly with, pretending to listen to whatever conversation they were having but really, he was focused on how Timmy’s hair kept falling in his face and how he kept reaching a hand to tuck the annoying stands behind his ear. He was surprised when absentmindedly, Timmy sorted through the jelly bracelets he was wearing, pulling a corkscrewed plastic hair tie from his wrist and after finger combing through the curls, gathered them at the top of his head and secured them in place.

The simple gesture had scrambled Armie’s brain again and he couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t even pretend to be paying attention to the conversation at hand because by pulling his hair up, Timmy had exposed the long lines of his neck, the gentle dip of his nape and the delicate yet sharp curve that transformed into thin but strong shoulders. It had also revealed the spot behind his ear that was so sensitive he would shiver and moan at the faintest graze of fingertips or lips. A spot that was normally hidden by thick, soft, sweet smelling locks that only a few people had ever been allowed to touch. A spot that Armie had claimed as his own a long time ago, and seeing it bared now for everyone to see made him ache with jealous longing. 

Armie excused himself and crossed the room. The group Timmy was with had broken into smaller pairings and by the time Armie reached him, he was laughing at a joke a pretty blond girl had just made while she flirted with him shamelessly, her knees touching his as she rested her elbows on his thigh and leaned forward conspiratorially, giving him a direct view down the front of her low cut dress.

“Hey stranger,” Armie said, and Timmy startled, going rigid when he felt Armie’s hand on the back of his neck, Armie’s pinky dipping under the collar of his green sweater and his thumb extending to graze the spot behind his ear. Sensation flooded him, rendering him unable to speak.

“Hey Armie!” the girl said, looking up at him through batting lashes, not seeming to notice that Timmy was choking on a moan because Armie had brushed the spot again with a nail.

“Hey Gorgeous,” he replied, because for the life of him he couldn’t remember her name. “Can I steal him from you? I haven’t even had a chance to say two words to him all evening and I promised Jonathan I’d bring him over for a chat.”

“Who’s Jona…” Timmy began to ask but sputtered and stopped. Words had become impossible again because Armie was squeezing the back of his neck, long fingers wrapped around almost half its circumference, tightening deliciously in both warning and promise.

Gorgeous, or whatever her name was, pouted to show her discontent but eventually agreed as long as Armie promised to bring him right back. Which he did of course, with his fingers figuratively crossed behind his back; because now that he’d managed to get his hands on Timmy, there was no way he was letting him go. They excused themselves and with a tight hand still on the back of Timmy’s neck, Armie directed him away from the living room crowd.

“Where are we going?” Timmy asked, voice tight with anticipation but Armie just shushed him and steered him in the direction of a hallway that was off limits to party attendees. 

The first few doors that Armie tried were locked, but the forth opened when he turned the knob. He glanced inside the room quickly and then, to make sure no one had seen them coming this way, he peered down both sides of the hallway before steering Timmy inside; Timmy responding easily to the silent direction given by Armie’s hand squeezing the back of his neck. 

As soon as they were inside, Armie pulled Timmy into his arms and pressed him against the door, closing it with the weight of their bodies, barely giving him time to register that the room he had been ushered into was an opulent guestroom - the decorative ‘Be Our Guest’ wooden wall decoration above the bed giving it away - before he was kissing him. 

It was a kiss filled with the relief of having Timmy in his arms again after months apart, which had left him with a longing so deep he thought his entire being might shatter from the weight of it; it was a kiss rife with passion that spoke to the unboundedness of the love he felt for this boy, this man now, who had completely taken over his heart; and it was a kiss charged with desire so intense they both felt it viscerally, the force of it pulling at them like magnets.

Both of Armie’s hands were cupping Timmy’s neck and when he pulled up for air, panting as he rested his forehead against Timmy’s because he couldn’t bear the distance, he gently caressed Timmy face his thumbs, needing to feel the softness of his skin, the hard edges of his jawline and the raised cliffs of his cheekbones. It was as though his hands didn’t trust his eyes and they needed to confirm that he was truly there. That he wasn’t just a figment of Armie’s imagination, conjured up to get him through another lonely night away from the man he loved. 

“I’m real,” Timmy whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips, because he knew what Armie was thinking - doubting, even if he was right there - and he wanted to reassure him. He wanted Armie to know that even when they weren’t together, he was thinking about Armie and working on finding his way back to him. 

“Just checking,” Armie chuckled, feeling silly but not, because he knew Timmy didn’t find him silly. Timmy understood him and always knew how to settle him.

Armie kissed him again. Softly this time, just lips pressing gently against lips and then he moved on to kissing his cheek, the top of a cheekbone, his temple, the shell of his ear, stopping long enough at his earlobe to nibble it briefly before resuming his kissing trail over to the sensitive part right behind it. Timmy didn’t know what to do with his hands. There was something about that spot when it was Armie touching it that made his brain go fuzzy. 

He groped at Armie’s shoulders, head tilting to the side, unconsciously pleading for more despite his skin protesting in the form of raised shivery goosebumps that tingled all the way down to his cock while Armie continued his exploration. 

Armie moved on to kissing Timmy’s nape and then trailed mouthy pecks down the slope of his neck until he reached the junction where neck-meets-shoulder. He pushed Timmy’s sweater down his arms so he could kiss pointy shoulder bones and raised collarbones and when he kissed the hollow at Timmy’s throat, Timmy’s knees turned to jello and he faltered. He would have fallen if Armie hadn’t expected it and braced his body - caging him between his arms, palms flat against the door so Timmy had nowhere to go even if he had wanted to, not that he wanted to - and pushing a raised knee between Timmy’s thighs.

“Touch me,” Timmy implored, his erection painful in the constraints of his tight jeans. 

“I am touching you,” Armie teased, so close to Timmy’s neck that he could feel the heat of his skin warming his lips. 

Timmy whined, the sound of it getting caught in his throat because Armie’s teeth had closed on the side of his neck. It hurt, in the best way, and Timmy’s entire body was rocked by a shiver so intense Armie had to hold onto him again so he didn’t keel over. 

“Fine! Then I’ll touch you.” He said defiantly, once he’d regained his footing, fumbling with Armie’s polo shirt - thankful that at some point during the night Armie had taking off the suit jacket he’d worn over it - pulling the fabric out of Armie’s trousers, allowing his eager fingers to touch the hot, smooth skin at Armie’s side for just a moment before they were attacking Armie’s belt buckle, whipping the belt from its loops and letting it fall to the floor so he could now make quick work of his button and zipper.

Within seconds, Armie’s pants were undone and Timmy’s hand was pushing past the barrier of his boxers so that narrow fingers could wrap around his cock. 

“Fuck!” Armie groaned when Timmy’s hand tightened possessively; a sentiment Timmy echoed by moaning his appreciation for how clearly Armie wanted him just as much as he wanted Armie.

“Bite me again,” Timmy demanded, eyes half closed and cheeks flushed with need.

Armie did as he was told, first kissing the valley between Timmy’s neck and his shoulder and then sinking his sharp canines into the tendon there. Timmy hissed through his teeth in a sharp intake of air, but his body went all liquid and compliant in Armie’s arms. 

“People are going to see these,” Armie warned after soothing a third bite close to Timmy’s nape with his tongue.

“I don’t care. I want them to know I’m yours,” Timmy mused, eyes closed and head thrown back against the door behind him, lulled by the sensation of teetering between pleasure and pain. “Just like you’re mine,” he added a little more forcefully and to make his point, he sped up the lazy rhythm he’d established stroking Armie’s dick.

“All the same,” Armie struggled to say through hitched breaths, Timmy’s free hand now joining the one around his shaft so the length of him was completely enveloped by Timmy’s warm skin. “We should be careful.”

“Alright,” Timmy ceded, bottom lip protruding disappointedly into a pout that Armie couldn’t help but suck into his mouth and bite, making Timmy hum. “My turn!” He said playfully, when Armie released him, and this time it was he who kissed a trail from Armie’s jaw down to his hip bone, rucking up his shirt as he lowered himself into a crouch, knees open wide so Armie could see the distended bulge of his erection. He palmed himself through the fabric, looking up at Armie through long dark lashes, lips parted and licked shiny, his expression lascivious and wanton. A drop of precum had formed on the tip of Armie’s cock at the mere sight of Timmy, all pretty and needy at his feet, and he moaned when Timmy licked it up.

When Timmy took him into his mouth, Armie stopped breathing, and for a brief moment he thought he’d never be able to start again… which would have been a pretty ok way to die if you asked him. It had been so long that he’d forgotten how glorious it felt to have Timmy’s lips around him in this way. Timmy’s mouth was warm and wet and his tongue felt like raw silk against his skin; a little rough but refined and luxurious. Armie widened his stance and leaned against the door with outstretched arms, palms flat on the wood to stop himself from threading his fingers into Timmy’s hair. Doing so would loosen the hair tie, making it fall out, and Armie wanted him to keep his hair this way. He liked being able to see all the pretty marks he’d left along the long column of Timmy’s neck and the way the little baby curls at his nape stuck to his skin with sweat. He liked watching the muscles in Timmy’s shoulders constrict and contract as he bobbed his head, teasing his balls with one hand and rubbing a slick finger over his hole with the other.

“Stop Tim. Wait,” Armie groaned, bucking his hips backward in an attempt to quell Timmy’s ardors when pleasure overtook him, because if Timmy didn’t stop, Armie knew he would come, and it was way too soon for that. “Get up here.”

Timmy whined when Armie pulled him up by the back of the neck so that he was forced to release Armie’s hard throbbing cock from his mouth and stand. He licked his lips and stretched his legs, realizing the position he’d been in was rather uncomfortable, but then Armie was kissing him again, his tongue chasing the taste of himself in Timmy’s mouth. Timmy wrapped his arms around Armie’s shoulders and then before he knew it, Armie was lifting him up, big hands cupping his ass for support while Timmy wrapped his legs around his waist. 

Armie buried his lips in the crook of Timmy’s neck as he walked to the huge plush bed and once there, he flung Timmy onto the mattress where he bounced a few times, giggling with exhilaration at being manhandled so easily before settling onto the thick feather duvet and pillows.

“We’re going to get in trouble for messing up the bed.” Timmy objected with little conviction, not really giving a shit any more than Armie did, but still he furthered the mock protest by adding: “Someone could walk in.” 

“And we both know you’d like that, so stop protesting and get over here so I can get you out of these clothes,” Armie chided.

Timmy giggled again though he stopped putting up a fight - not that he was fighting at all - yelping when Armie grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him closer to unlace his ankle boots and remove them, so he could then make quick work of getting him out of the rest of the outfit.

Once he was done, Armie took a moment to admire the span of Timmy naked before him, practically venerating the sight of lean and narrowly muscled limbs, a flat but soft belly that trembled with the anticipation of being touched, and a smooth hairless chest with flawless milky skin that just begged to be marked and bruised so it could match the patterns Armie had left on Timmy’s elegant lithesome neck.

“What?” Timmy asked, a sudden pink flush of pleased shyness creeping into his cheeks, mirroring the swollen rosiness of his bitten lips. He was used to being desired, not revered.

“You’re a fucking piece of art,” Armie answered, sounding a little strangled because he was overcome with the emotion of it, and Timmy preened under Armie’s gaze despite himself, a touch of diffidence still obvious in the color that had spread from his cheeks onto his neck and dissipated over his chest. 

As Timmy watched Armie undress, he brought his arms up behind his head as though he were getting comfortable to watch his favorite show - which to be honest, he was - and when Armie was done and climbed up onto the bed, Timmy’s knees parted and fell to the sides easily to make room for the width of Armie’s body between his thighs. And when Timmy wrapped himself around him, ankles locked around his waist and arms tight around brawny shoulders so he could feel the way he moved over him, Armie knew that this was what it felt like to come home.

Armie was busy sucking a bruise onto the unmarked side of Timmy’s neck - Timmy writhing under him because the pleasure of it was too much and he couldn’t keep still, his cock rubbing against Armie’s and dripping precum between their bellies - when they heard a rustling outside the door. 

They froze and held their breath, the risk of getting caught suddenly real, and Timmy’s eyes darted to the door, already wide pupils dilating even more with anticipation, his heart beating so wildly Armie could feel it thud against his own chest. The prospect of someone walking in on them, seeing how totally gone for Armie Timmy was, how blatantly he gave himself over, had always excited him.

“I locked the door earlier,” Armie whispered and then had to muffle a laugh against Timmy’s neck when his body untensed under him, deception obvious in the way his mouth went all plump and pouty. “One day I'll make you fall apart with the door wide open so everyone can see you,” he promised once whoever had been walking by was out of earshot, laughing again when all Timmy could reply was an unrestrained ‘nghgnn’, his hips canting up into Armie’s involuntarily. “Such a perv,” Armie teased before resuming his ministrations on Timmy’s neck.

By the time Timmy was able to formulate words again, Armie’s back was a masterpiece of burning red scratches that Timmy had created while Armie bit and licked the hard nubs of his nipples, kissed and scratched the skin over his ribs, pulled at the soft flesh of his belly with his teeth, and teased his leaking cock with his mouth while his fingers remembered how to find Timmy’s prostate; all of which had rendered Timmy a mess in his arms.

“Fuck me. I want you inside me.” Timmy whined, back arching, hips raising off the mattress in an attempt to get closer. Armie could tell he had meant for it to be demanding, an order more so than a request, but it had come out begging and that made Armie’s cock jerk with need of its own.  
  
“I don’t have a condom,” Armie said, adding a finger as he pushed into Timmy’s tight hole, lapping at it with a wet tongue to ease the way.

“I do. Jeans. Back pocket,” Timmy directed, eyes closed and hands fisting at the messy duvet beneath him.

“Really?” Armie said, stopping to look up in surprise. Timmy didn’t normally carry condoms around in his pockets. He wasn’t THAT guy. “If I didn’t know you better I’d say it’s almost like you planned this.”

“Almost!” Timmy replied, unable to hide a coy smile, the flush in his cheeks deeping. 

“Oh my god. You did you little shit. You planned this!” Armie chastised playfully, giving the side of Timmy’s ass a fairly hard smack for good measure, which of course only made Timmy keen.

“I missed you,” he said with feigned innocence, raising himself on his elbows so he could stretch his neck toward Armie and requisition a kiss, adding: “And my ass missed your cock.”

Armie granted him the kiss but it was brief, because now that the option of actually fucking Timmy was on the table, there was no way Armie wasn’t going to take advantage of it. He scrambled off the bed and went in search of the condom, finding it quickly in the back pocket of Timmy’s jeans and then he resumed his position between Timmy’s thighs. 

“Wait,” Timmy said when the condom was in place and Armie was ready to go. “I want to be on top.”

It didn’t take long for Armie to get on his back so Timmy could straddle him, toes tucked under his large muscular thighs, the familiar mannerism - Timmy did this everytime he sat on Armie’s lap, whether it was to fuck or just to cuddle - reigniting Armie’s sense of home. 

Bringing his middle and ring fingers to his lips, Timmy sucked them into his mouth to get them wet with saliva - because while a condom had fit discreetly in his jeans, a bottle of lube had not - and once he was satisfied that they were slicked enough, he arched his back and pushed them inside his ass; the sight making Armie’s insides vibrate with a hunger he’d only ever felt for Timmy, and his body hummed excitedly while he tried to wait patiently for his turn.

Because Armie’s much larger fingers had already done a pretty good job of opening him up earlier, fingering himself was more a question of making sure he was wet and slick enough to ease the path for Armie’s substantial girth - and because he knew Armie liked watching him touch himself, and he liked that Armie liked it - which he did with care despite his own impatience. Finally, he removed his fingers, and then used the same hand to guide Armie’s cock as he lowered himself down onto it. 

He moved slowly at first, sitting up straight as he rolled his pelvis in lascivious figure eights or undulated his hips from side to side. Armie’s hands were on his waist but he was letting Timmy set the pace, grateful for whatever rhythm Timmy wanted to set, liking it when he took charge and took what he needed before letting Armie have his way with him once he’d come. 

Praise came easily to Timmy when he was the one holding the reins and he wasn’t shy about telling Armie how big his dick was, how full it made him feel or how good it felt to fuck his tight greedy hole with it.

Eventually, Timmy needed more than just the rocking of his hips, so he leaned back and placed his hands on Armie’s knees, using them as leverage as he began to move up and down, pulling up until he could constrict his muscles around the head of Armie’s cock and then sliding all the way back down again. The lines of Timmy’s body in this position rendered Armie speechless. He had his head thrown back, hair still pulled up on the top exposing the entire column of his neck in all its marked glory, his throat pulled taut over a prominent adam’s apple. His shoulder and arms strained to support his movements, sinewy muscles evident under creamy skin. Then there was the perfect backward arch of the line you could trace starting at the hollow of his throat that went all the way down his chest, over his belly, and ended at the base of his perfect cock; which was currently leaking onto Armie’s stomach.

“Please touch me, Armie. I need you to touch me,” Timmy whined, all pretense that he wasn’t going to beg abandoned at this point. Even his directives were uttered pleadingly in the most beautiful way, his voice coming out strangled with every “tighter”, “harder”, and “oh my god I’m going to die if you stop”.

When his words became unintelligible and faded into strings of moans was usually when Armie knew that Timmy was close to falling apart. He did his best to match Timmy’s cadence as he bounced on his lap, his hand moving over Timmy cock with determination, the muscles in his forearm burning from the strain but he didn’t care because watching Timmy come undone on top of him was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen.

When Timmy came it was with a force Armie hadn’t expected, his body rocked with long rolling shudders and a groan so loud Armie was convinced everyone at the party must have heard him. He collapsed onto Armie’s chest, all sweaty and shivery, panting into his ear.

“Holy fuck,” he sighed contentedly, humming with pleasure when Armie kissed the spot right behind his ear that was usually too sensitive, but weirdly not right after he’d come. Armie was still hard inside him but he didn’t move, giving Timmy a chance to catch his breath before he began to chase his own release. “I missed you so much,” Timmy whispered, somewhat emotional now that the physical need was no longer dominating.

“I missed you too,” Armie echoed before they were kissing again. At some point, Timmy found himself being rolled over and pinned to the mattress under Armie, Armie’s fingers laced with his, holding his hands above his head. “Is this ok?” he asked, moving gingerly inside Timmy, making sure he wasn’t hurting him; Timmy’s ‘yes’ followed by a pleasure-filled moan telling Armie everything he needed to know.

Despite the short pause they’d taken to give Timmy time to catch his breath, it wasn’t long before Armie’s breathing became labored as he thrust into a writhing Timmy beneath him. He delayed as long as he could, not wanting this to end. It had been so long, too long, since they’d last seen each other and he couldn’t let him go yet. But soon it became too much and he was too close to try to edge it out any longer. 

“I want you to come on me,” Timmy beckoned, wrenching a hand out of Armie’s so he could pull at his shoulder.

“Where?” Armie groaned, the idea of it sending spasms straight to his cock that almost ruined everything.

“Anywhere. But close, I want to see you,” Timmy replied, his voice hoarse.

Armie moved quickly. He pulled out of Timmy, discarded the condom - briefly thinking he should tie it off, but fuck it, he didn’t have time for that - and climbed over Timmy until he was straddling his chest. There was no time to question if aiming at Timmy's throat was weird or not; he really didn’t care. He just wanted to see his come pooling in the hollow of his throat, and then watch as it dribbled down the sides of his beautifully branded neck.

“Do you want me to do it?” Timmy offered, eyeing Armie’s thick cock greedily but Armie shook his head.

“No. Just give me your hand,” he replied, raising an open palm to grab Timmy’s and he interlaced their fingers, resting their clasped hands on his thigh while he jerked a frantic pace on his cock with the other.

The first spurt of Armie’s come landed on Timmy’s swollen lips and though it took him by surprise, he recovered quickly, licking it up avidly while he tilted his chin up so the rest of it found its desired target. Armie groaned and grunted as he came, hips bucking forward of their own accord. Armie hadn’t been wrong; watching the pearly iridescent streaks of his release sliding over the red bite marks and purple hickeys he’d left on Timmy’s neck and throat earlier was magnificent.

Later, while Armie was cleaning him up with a warm, damp face cloth he’d found in the ensuite bathroom, Timmy couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Armie asked, perplexed. He was being gentle but not enough to tickle.

“I was just thinking that it was a good thing I put my hair up, otherwise I'd have a ‘There’s something about Mary’ situation happening, which would be awkward.”

“Oh my god. Can I… please… I want to see you explain this to Brian,” Armie teased, running his fingers through a last dribble of come on the side of Timmy’s neck and pretending to attempt to run them through Timmy’s hair.

“Stop, stop,” Timmy squealed and laughed, thrashing his head side to side, trying to hold Armie’s arm away from him with both hands around his wrist.

“Fine!” Armie gave in and instead of Timmy’s hair, he brought his fingers to Timmy’s lips, his cock stirring again when Timmy opened his mouth and licked them clean. 

* * *

“Armie? Armieee?” Armie hears Timmy's voice calling from afar and he’s suddenly back at the cabin, standing at the kitchen sink, still holding the plate he’d been drying before his mind had drifted. “Hey, you looked far away, where’d you go?” he asks, smiling up at Armie sweetly, the back of a delicate cool hand brushing against his cheek. 

“I… I was thinking about the private industry party we went to last summer when you came out to L.A. to surprise me. Do you remember it?”

“Mmhmm. That was a good night.” Timmy remembers fondly, wrapping himself around Armie in a tight hug that Armie returns with only his arms because his hands are still full. “What made you think of that?” Timmy asks. His voice is thick and gravelly and his shoulders feel tense. He’s obviously tired and Armie instinctively wants to wrap a hand around the back of his neck to soothe it, but he can’t.

“You put your hair up. You know what that does to me. The way it makes your neck look is just...” Armie trails off, unable to finish the sentence because there are no words fitting enough to describe how Timmy’s neck looks.

“Do I?” Timmy asks, feigning ignorance, a familiar wanton twinkle in his eye. “I’m not sure actually. How about you take me to bed and show me what my neck does to you?”

Armie doesn’t need to be asked twice. He puts the plate and dish towel down, bends just enough so he can pick Timmy up, Timmy naturally wrapping his arms around Armie’s shoulders and his legs around his waist, and off they go; Armie readying himself to fling Timmy onto the bed as soon as they reach it, so he can remind Timmy what it does to him when he puts his hair up and exposes his neck so unabashedly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as usual to Lostcol for the edit, and the "what's the word for..." saves, as well as the consistency verifications since this is a series in which all the storylines intersect and I have the memory of a goldfish.


End file.
